


The Real Us

by eclipseddestiny



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Minimal Cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipseddestiny/pseuds/eclipseddestiny
Summary: Kim Lip doesn't see anything special about her literature class at first, until a classmate bursts through the door and continuously proves her wrong.





	1. Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> I initially thought that this was going to be a short drabble, but then it turned into seven chapters. Oops! I hope you enjoy. Also, thank you to Jessup for all of your help and encouragement.

“Jungeun?”   
  
Swallowing my dread, I raise my hand and watch as the professor quickly scribbles through the attendance sheet before resting my arm back on the desk. There is little that I hate in this world more than group projects, but today I’ve discovered something even worse. What kind of professor assigns forced groups for the semester, but on the first day? My eyes scan the lecture hall, and it is unbelievable to me that there is no one who looks equally as unexcited.    
  
Watching the smiles of peers as they turn to one another, I realize that it is probably because most people know each other in this class or that there are friends who planned on taking it together beforehand. I sigh as I rest my cheek against the heel of my palm. I knew I was stupid for taking the year off.   
  
My thoughts are torn from me when the door to the right of the room bursts open, and the girl coming through it jolts as though she hadn’t expected the door to give so little resistance. I don’t have to look around the room to know everyone else is staring at her as well.   
  
“I-I’m so sorry!” she says, bowing briefly toward the professor.   
  
The professor glances down at his attendance sheet before asking, “Are you Haseul?”   
  
“Yes, I sent an email,” the girl responds, and the professor nods before waving the tip of his pen vaguely in the direction of the lecture hall seats. While he finishes up with roll call, she looks as though she is completely unsure of where to go, and I suppose it doesn’t help that everyone went back to chatting with one another. There’s nothing wrong with sitting alone, so I don’t see why she doesn’t just –   
  
Unfortunately, our eyes meet and I suddenly realize that I just made myself prime real estate by not seeming busy. People sit in the back, alone, for a reason!    
  
In a desperate panic, I whip around in the swiveling chair to reach into my backpack and pull out my laptop. It takes me a second to get the cord out as well but, when I turn back to place them on my desk, there is a strong sense of defeat that greets me. I open my laptop and force myself to keep my gaze on the startup screen as the chair beside me swivels outward and the girl takes a seat.   
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
I want to pretend that I can’t hear her, but that would be going a bit too far. Turning my head to her, I nod so that she knows I’m listening.   
  
“Hi… I’m sorry for bothering you, but I just needed someone to let me know what I missed in the first ten minutes,” she says with a small smile, but her eyes are worried. Maybe she is a good student.   
  
“Actually,” I clear my throat, realizing I probably haven’t talked today, “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. He went over the syllabus first so he’s doing attendance now.”   
  
“I’ll make sure to catch up on reading it tonight, then. Did he say anything else important that wasn’t included in it?”   
  
“He said that we’ll be forming our groups today. It can be between pairs or up to groups of four. It’s a semester-long thing for assignments and projects so that we don’t have to go through the process of making groups more than once, I guess.” Rolling my eyes, I shoot a glare toward the professor while crossing my arms.   
  
A defeated, breathy chuckle comes out of her mouth. “I hate group work.”   
  
“Right?” She gets it, at least.   
  
“My name is Haseul, by the way,” she mentions, her hand extending toward me in my peripheral.    
  
“I heard.” Reluctantly, I lazily unfold my arms and give her a very brief handshake. As much as I would rather be alone, I don’t want to come off like a jerk when I can already tell where this is going.    
  
“Would you mind if we pair up? I can tell most people are already grouped up aside from you.”    
  
There it is. I mumble, “I’m not really the best at group activities.”   
  
“It doesn’t sound like either of us have much of a choice, if what you say is true.” She almost sounds amused. I hope she didn’t misunderstand the implication.   
  
“I don’t mean that I’m a bad student, by the way, I just… hate group work, like you.” It would’ve sounded sad if I said what I was thinking, which was that I hate socializing with people. It’s never been my field of expertise, per se. But the smile that she gives me is a friendly one, and I really don’t want to be rude. Plus, unfortunately, she’s right.    
  
“If we just group up as a pair, we can split the work and do both of our halves on our own. How does that sound? Less pressure?” Admittedly, her approach is very fair. She continues, “And it won’t be like every day will have group-related homework. But when we do, I’ll trust you to do your best and we can get together to finalize whatever we’re working on after all the individual portions are done. Does that sound okay?”   
  
“And you say you hate group work? You sound like a leader.” I stifle a laugh. She has got to be kidding me. There is no way that she hates group work when she can act this confidently about it.   
  
Haseul turns to reach into her own bag, speaking as she does so, “I feel like I’ve had the misfortune of having insensitive or lazy people whenever I get into a group for school.” She takes her own laptop out and places it on the surface of the desk in front of us.    
  
“Fair enough.” My finger idly rubs the trackpad as the professor begins to speak up again. It isn’t long before he starts diving right into introducing himself and how he came into teaching, describing the themes of the literature that he’s been teaching for however many years. I started to zone out at some point, so I don’t remember the exact number.   
  
Haseul leans toward me with a whisper, “By the way, you didn’t tell me your name.”   
  
I want to ask her why she looks so smug, as though she’s caught me for something, but there is a sudden distraction that interests my nose. I can’t help but notice a pleasant fragrance that reminds me of fresh laundry, but it goes away as she adjusts back into her normal posture. Her tiny smirk stretches into a shy smile, and I feel bad for taking so long to reply. Maybe she feels like she overstepped a boundary by looking smug, I don’t know. It was cute, though. The scent of fresh laundry fits her friendly demeanor.   
  
“You can call me Kim Lip.”   
  
She raises an eyebrow, perplexed. “’Can?’ And both parts at once?”   
  
“Yes,” I whisper back, simply. I can’t really blame her for being confused but, luckily, she arrived to class after my name had been called. What’s the point in taking a year off to reinvent myself if I won’t completely follow through? To my surprise, though, she seems to accept my response with no hesitance.    
  
“Nice to meet you, Kim Lip,” she says, and it feels nice. She turns her head back to give her attention to the teacher, and I take the moment to glance at her from the side. A fraction of a smile fixes itself onto my face.   
  
“You, too.”


	2. Not So Different

It may only be three weeks in, but I am beginning to feel confident that the semester will not be as difficult as anticipated. Grades were never an issue for me before, and I intend to keep it that way. Determination and all that cliché stuff, right? But only this class manages to make me anxious.   
  
But, even now as the professor tells us to get with our partners for our first project, I’m honestly not too worried about the group-related work for once, thankfully. I have a seemingly reliable partner, but the issue is whether or not public speaking will send me into a panic. My gaze falls on Haseul as she removes herself from a seat directly ahead of me in the following row. After that first day, she always made sure to sit in front of me. It was like she could tell from the beginning that I had intentionally sat alone. To me, it was obvious that being alone was the goal, but I am glad that I didn’t have to say anything or deal with feeling awkward. I mean, not that she’d make me feel awkward or anything, I just –    
  
“Is it alright if I come sit next to you for today?” Haseul asks, lifting her bag from the back of her chair as she smiles toward me. I don’t know why it catches me off guard since I was already looking at her, but I can’t think of a simple response. I just nod, like an idiot.   
  
I unfold my laptop and immediately get started on opening a shared document for us to work on. Turns out that our professor is a big fan of analytic discussion, and so every group has its own book to analyze and lead a discussion on. I don’t really get the point since I am pretty sure professors are the ones who should be talking and, you know, teaching. But I also just hate presentations. At least the book is interesting. It seems to be a tale of a mute woman, and I can only imagine how difficult it was for the author to write a story without the protagonist’s dialogue.   
  
Haseul plops down next to me, taking her own laptop out and turning it on. She stares at the startup screen with little interest. Even though I think that she can tell that I’m antisocial, I don’t want to give off an intimidating impression.    
  
“I, uh,” I begin to say, pointing at the blank sheet on my screen, “made a document for us.”   
  
She looks over at me, then at the screen. “Oh! Thank you. Do you need my email?”   
  
“No problem. And yeah,” I respond before she begins to spell out her email address. It’s just her full name, with what I can only assume is her year of birth. Two years older yet still in a general course. “You were born in 1997? Did you take a year or two off?”   
  
Haseul looks pleasantly surprised by the question. “Ah, yeah. I took the past year off, so I’m behind in my requirements. It’s okay, though.”   
  
“I took a year off, too.”    
  
“I guess we’re not so different, after all.” She lets out a soft chuckle before returning to her computer, accepting the invitation to the document.    
  
My eyes linger on her for a moment. Hair pulled up into a slightly messy ponytail, blue jeans underneath a plain, forest green hoodie, and white sneakers. Bouncing leg and fidgeting fingers across her keyboard. Comparatively, in my black bomber jacket, red crop top, black skinny jeans, and black sneakers, I can’t help but smirk at her comment. We couldn’t be more night and day if we tried. But, more importantly, she seems nervous.   
  
“You seem frazzled.” Is that rude to say? Is that like when you tell someone that they look tired? Shit.   
  
Her anxious movements cease, but she doesn’t look at me. “Late morning.”   
  
“You’re late every day,” I say, though I try my best to make it sound more like a tease than a critique. It’s true, she’s late to class every time but, for whatever reason, she doesn’t get reprimanded even when others do. I assume she has an arrangement with the professor based on some mention of an email on the first day, but I’m sure the people who have gotten in trouble are not too fond of her. No one really talks to her, at least in this class, but I guess that’s a direct consequence of showing up late when there’s no free time to talk.   
  
“Can’t help it.” She scratches the back of her neck, looking embarrassed by the callout. “But I know it probably looks bad.”   
  
“You don’t look bad.” It came out before I really thought about the wording, and it isn’t until her eyebrows raise ever so slightly before laughing that I realize what I said. I feel a wave of warmth across my cheeks, and I quickly try to recover and explain, “Sorry, no, I –”    
  
“It’s okay,” she interrupts. “I know what you were trying to say, but I’ll have you know that this,” she says as she drags her hands down her sides, “is the latest in chic fashion.”   
  
I crack a smile. “Is that so?”   
  
Haseul’s amused grin morphs into a mischievous smirk. “I feel sorrier for you than anything.”   
  
“Ah, because my look isn’t designer approved, you mean?”   
  
“See, I knew you would understand, Kim Lip.”   
  
Again, it feels good to hear that name come out of someone’s mouth. Being late every day means she still has no idea what my actual name is because she misses roll call every time. I fiddle with my hair for a bit before glancing at her ponytail again.    
  
She notices. “Pretty sad hair, right?”   
  
“No.” My eyebrows furrow a bit, and I’m disappointed in myself. I didn’t mean to come off like that.    
  
“So… happy hair, then?” Her laugh is a relief, and the tension in my shoulders relaxes. Is my face still warm?   
  
“The ponytail is a nice look, honestly.”    
  
“I usually wear my hair down since it’s more comfortable for me, but I love how ponytails look on others. I want to pull it off better, but I prefer my hair down.”   
  
“Wear it how you want to wear it.” Regardless of the style, her hair always looks good. I mean, I sit behind her all the time so it’s hard not to see her hair. It looks soft. Does it feels that way, too?   
  
“It’s cute when you blush like that.”   
  
I blink upon hearing that, realizing that I had just been staring at her like a creep. Immediately adjusting my posture back into an upright position, I hover my hands by the keys of my laptop.    
  
Haseul struggles to stifle another laugh. “Ready to work now?”   
  
I clear my throat. “Always.”


	3. Uncharted Territory

The embarrassment lingers throughout the day, even as I arrive home. My jacket begins to feel too warm, so I remove it and place it on the back of my door when I enter my bedroom. It isn’t long before my laptop is plugged in and atop my desk. Earbuds are set as I start up my usual homework playlist, which is mostly made of relaxing instrumental tracks, and I take a seat.  
  
Most of the assignments are easy and straightforward, being both a mix of light reading and doing mathematical problems online. But as the sun sets and the shroud of night takes over the sky outside my window seat, I reluctantly open the shared document for my literature class. Presentations suck but leading a group discussion sounds like it would be worse. I am not looking forward to it but, even if it isn’t due tomorrow, I’d rather get as much done as possible. There’s nothing better to do, anyway.  
  
My eyebrows perk up a bit when I notice a dark green font not only a full page into the document, but actively still typing. I hover my mouse over the icon of the active user, and the email that shows up matches Haseul’s exactly. I don’t know if I should wait until later or if it would be okay for me to just start writing.  
  
There’s a sudden ping at the bottom of the webpage. _Hey, Kim Lip._  
  
I blink, unsure for a moment before realizing that I just never knew there was an instant messenger on this thing. Her icon is a silhouette of a white bird tacked onto a green background. It’s simple, especially in comparison to the high definition owl photo I’ve been using on my email.  
  
Another ping. _I hope you don’t mind that I got started. The green is to tell apart what I wrote, sorry._ _  
__  
__It's fine._ I hope that comes off sincere. I don’t really care since it’s just homework. She worries too much about being courteous over little things. However, I do care about coming off rude. _Hey, btw._  
  
_Hi!_ There’s a little hand emoji alongside it. Waving, maybe? _If there is anything you want to expand on from your own perspective, you can._ _  
__  
__Thank you. If I do, I will let you know._ Alright, now maybe I can get to work.  
  
I decide to look over her notes before I move on with my own. Between bullet point lists and headers, they appear very neat and organized at first glance, but the actual notes are written messily regardless of the analytic quality. She writes smart notes, but they’re written in an almost freeform type of way. I snicker to myself. Maybe she is a bit of an airhead.  
  
Indulging in her idea for a moment, I choose crimson as my font color. A darker shade isn’t as harsh against the white sheet, which was probably her line of reasoning for the dark green. The crimson letters pour out onto the page, detailing the ideas that entered my head earlier on the way home. Scrolling up to check one of her points, I realize that she is continuously backspacing the same word again and again. I laugh and quickly look up the spelling.  
  
I shoot her a message. _It’s ‘onomatopoeia.’_ _  
__  
__THANK YOU._ She erases her attempt one more time before correctly spelling it. _I never remember how to write it off the top of my head._  
  
A soft laugh pops out of my mouth. _I saw you struggling, but I looked it up._  
  
_Cheater!_ There is a laughing emoji that follows her message, and I have no idea why that makes me feel good. Haseul is kind of playful, I’ll give her that. And, as my eyes scan through her notes again, I can see that she’s smart, as well. I gently bite the inside of my cheek.  
  
She’s pretty, too. Sighing, I quickly begin typing.  
  
_This isn’t a reliable place for messaging unless both people are on it at the same time, so if you need any help with the coursework or you want to ask anything about the discussion work that I can help with, here’s my number. I need to shower._ It’s not a usual thing for me to do, but I’m trying to resist the embarrassment that is piercing me from the inside. I type the digits carefully, making sure I don’t give the wrong number by accident.  
  
_That’s a good idea! Thank you!_  
  
It isn’t like I expected any kind of rejection. I mean, we’re partners for the class, so it makes sense to have one another’s numbers for class work related things. But, nonetheless, feeling the enthusiasm in her reply helps to relieve me.  
  
Shutting the lid of the laptop, I remove my earbuds before standing up from the chair. My phone buzzes against the desk, and my hand quickly reaches for it.  
  
_Is this Kim Lip?_  
  
_Yeah. I assume this is Haseul?_ I don’t really need a confirmation, since I already know, but it’s still mildly disappointing when there is no immediate response.  


* * *

  
  
I’m staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, now that my hair is done drying, and I frown at the usual figure in front of me. There is always something to nitpick.  Do I have nice eyes? Is this silvery blonde hair worth the work? Am I happy with the direction that I went for? There’s always a sense of dissatisfaction that lingers, but at least I get to wear a big comfy sweater and pajama shorts after a warm dinner.  
  
My brow furrows for a moment while I run my fingers through my hair. Curiously, I pull my it back into a ponytail with my hands. I hold my grip there as I adjust the angles of my face in the mirror, and I wonder whether it looks good or flat out stupid.  
  
“I guess it’s nice,” I mutter under my breath, coming to a decision. I return to my room and my attention quickly shifts to my phone that has been sitting at my desk. Anxiety creeps through me as I pick it up, but I’m just being ridiculous. It’s not like I’m expecting her to tell me to fuck off or anything like that. Although, I am greeted with a surprise when I finally gather the courage to unlock my phone.  
  
_The one and only._ What surprises me isn’t her text message but, rather, the sudden selfie that welcomes me upon opening the conversation. She smiles smugly at me through the screen, her chin resting on the backside of her hand, and she’s wearing a baggy black t-shirt. Her hair is down like always, aside from earlier today.  
  
I remember how to breathe. _Am I to also assume that you’re the photo messaging type, huh?_ _  
__  
__Well, you asked a silly question, so I wanted to tease you. Plus, contact photo for free!_  
  
I smirk. _Tease me by sending a photo of yourself?_ _  
__  
__Is that a request or a question?_ I do a double take before there is another ping. _Lol jk, I just thought it would be funny. I’m sorry if I look like a mess or if that was weird._  
  
_Not at all._ I frown. I actually like the picture more than I want to admit, but it would be creepy to say anything about her looking good. Right? I don’t know. I just make it her contact picture and try not to look at it.  Is it weirder that I’m forcing myself not to look at it? It’s just a picture. A friendly picture, one that a classmate would definitely send. That’s it.  
  
The three dots at the bottom of the conversation continue to ebb and flow while she types, and I make sure to plop onto my bed. She is taking a long time, considering I sent a fairly simple reply. Or did something come off badly? There is a minor sense of panic that runs through me before another alert comes through.  
  
_That’s a relief!_ What? All that time for three words?  
  
I lack self-control. _It said you were typing for a while. You must be a slow typer._  
  
It takes a moment before her next reply arrives. _Busted!_ _  
__  
__What were you typing before, if that’s okay?_ I’m just curious, but I also feel increasingly nervous with every second that goes by. Haseul went through the effort of writing a full message, only to hesitate and delete it. It’s serious, right? Maybe she needs help with something and is afraid to ask.  
  
I hold my breath when the phone buzzes in my hand. _I am happy with calling you Kim Lip, like you asked. However, your email is kind of typical, and I can easily see your full name there. But I mostly just wanted to ask about why you go by a different name, if that’s not too much pressure. You can say no, but I have been curious since that first day._  
  
I drag my hand down my face in humiliation, completely forgetting that I had been the one to send the invitation to access the document. I should’ve known better than to think it wouldn’t happen eventually and that, of course, it would be my own fault. It probably won’t sound like a big deal to her, but it’s a big deal to me. And I barely know her! What’s the point of sharing something when I’m trying to hide that side of me? That defeats the purpose!  
  
Time to deflect. _I’m surprised that you’d be so curious since I’m essentially a stranger._  
  
_I’m asking because I don’t want you to be._  
  
Well, shit. _It’s a lot to type._ _  
__  
__It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable! We can just talk about the project if you want. I really liked your notes about the strength of her resolve when she is at her limit._ _  
__  
_ A part of me wants to beat myself up because, naturally, I’m an idiot. And, admittedly, another part of me wants to tell her. I’m not really used to having close friends, but this is how it starts, right? My grip relaxes when I realize how tightly I’m holding my phone. I bite my lip.  
  
_It's not that I’m uncomfortable. It’s not even anything crazy. It’s just weird, I guess._ I stare at the message for a while before sending it with a groan. Nothing says appeal like admitting that there is something about me that could be weird, on the first night of texting a girl. Just a girl. A totally normal and regular classmate, who happens to be female.  
  
_We don’t have to talk about it! And hey, weird isn’t always bad._ There is a winky face emoji that follows, and I can’t help myself from a small smile.  
  
_We can talk about it. Maybe it’d be nice to tell someone._ I can do it, I can be brave and vulnerable. Maybe! Who knows?  
  
_Okay! We can talk about it after class if you want._  
  
I stare at her message for a couple of minutes, and I debate on whether I want that or not. I don’t mean the talking about it part but, rather, the talking after class. Hanging out so soon? Isn’t that too fast? Or maybe a phone call would be better. I glance over at the clock. It’s only nine at night. I puff out my cheeks and hum to myself while I anxiously spill some incredibly dumb words out on my phone.  
  
_Actually, I have to go home right away tomorrow._ I don’t. _But we can call now if you want._ _  
__  
__Oh! Sure, that’s fine. Call when ready._  
  
I don’t know why one half of me is terrified and why the other is looking forward to it. It’s just a phone call. Then again, everyone hates making phone calls these days, don’t they? I always felt they were easier with getting appointments or customer service things done since it’s more direct, so this should be easier. Shouldn’t it? It’s just a classmate. I take a long, deep breath as I hesitantly press the call button. Will she think I’m stupid? I shake my head, bringing the phone up to my ear. It doesn’t matter.  
  
It’s just Haseul.


	4. I Can Do It, If It's You

“Hello, Kim Lip.”

Her voice is soft when it greets my ears, and it sounds like she is a little bit tired. The way she says my name echoes in my mind for a moment, and I am so grateful for how often she says it even when she doesn’t have to. Whether it’s a way to tease me or because she knows that it’s what I want to hear, I couldn’t care less. I just appreciate that she says it.

“If this is inconvenient at all, we can just talk another time.” I don’t want her to push herself over something as ridiculous as this. 

Her voice perks up, but it’s still soft in volume. “No, no! I’m sorry, I just can’t be too loud. My younger sister is sleeping.”

“Younger sister?”

“Yeah, her name is Yeojin. She’ll kill me if I wake her up.”

I glance at the clock. “How old is she? It’s kind of early, isn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely. She’s five years younger than me.” The breathy laugh on the other end tickles my ear. “But she has a lot to do during the day, so she gets tired very easily.” 

“And you share a room together?”

“Ah, yeah.” There is a vague feeling of hesitance in her voice. “It’s not the biggest space.”

I shrug, though she can’t see it. “Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah.” There’s a brief silence that follows before she takes a breath and asks, “So, Kim Lip. What’s the story behind that name?”

“It is going to make me sound pretty dumb, I think.”

“I’ve seen your notes. You’re nothing close to dumb.”

“Maybe the notes are a façade. You wouldn’t even know.” I fiddle with my sleeve, feeling the anxiety well up inside of me yet again.

“Either way, I doubt it’ll be as stupid as you think it is.” There is a patience in her voice that I don’t deserve. I’m the one who brought up the phone call, so I need to take some responsibility, because otherwise I’m just going to waste her time.

I take a deep breath. “Well, I guess a good summary of what led to it is that I’ve never really been a popular kid in school.”

“Was it because you were the quiet type?” 

I chuckle. “I really am that much of a loner, huh? Read me like an open book.”

“Well, you’re not alone right now, right?” I can tell that she’s smiling. The soft, almost sleepy voice is increasingly endearing. Cute, even.

“Technically speaking, I guess not.”

“Then feel free to go on.”

“Sure.” I adjust my position and rest on my side. “I was an antisocial mess of a kid. And I don’t even mean that in the same way that I guess I express now. I was really awkward, and I never made close friends. Growing up, I always felt like I could just never insert myself into a conversation or muster the courage to hop in and try to get included in something. I always worried about bothering people, so I mostly sat in the corner and did my schoolwork. I lacked the confidence for sports and clubs. All I had were my grades and my silence.”

“Did you want to be involved with more people?”

I think about it for a moment. “I guess in some respects, I both did and didn’t. I think I had a dumb sense of superiority about being above drama and thinking that I was a better person for not dealing with ‘those people,’ if that makes sense.”

“I see what you’re saying. But you said, at times, that you did want to be involved more?”

“Yeah.” I’m surprised at how easily everything is coming out of my mouth. Is it a bad thing that I’m sharing all of this without much of a problem? Am I a fake? I try not to think about it. “Other times, I just knew that I was missing out on friendships. I always wondered about the simple things, like going to get ice cream with a group or what it would be like to plan a trip into the city. Was I missing out in life? Was it that I just hated the people I was in school with, or did I hate that I couldn’t be closer to them? Those kinds of questions were on my mind.”

“It sounds like it was a deep internal struggle. I’m sorry that the world around you felt so closed off.” Haseul sounds sympathetic, and maybe a bit sad. “Was this how you felt up until you entered university?”

“I told myself that once I graduated, I’d reinvent myself as a person. I wanted to change everything between hair, style, aura, and even my name.” I needed to separate myself from the old me as much as I possibly could. I wanted to be able to look in the mirror and know how it felt to not recognize the face staring back. “I took a year off before going to university, because I truly wanted as fresh of a slate as possible. I wanted to be a completely new person, so much so that I gave that identity a different name.”

There is a brief pause before Haseul speaks again. “Did you do it for yourself or for others?”

“For me, of course.” I feel myself becoming defensive. “Why would I do that for others?” 

“I don’t know how you are in other classes, so I could be wrong, but you still seem to prefer to be alone. Was the change not so that you could have the confidence to pursue socializing more often?”

I don’t answer right away, but she doesn’t push me to. Should I stop myself before admitting how pitiful I am? I want to be defensive and argue that it would obviously be for no other reason than to feel more comfortable in my own skin. But I can’t argue the fact that I still don’t have friends or that I still find myself alone often, even at school.

“No.” I sigh. “I wanted to change so that when people see me sitting alone, they think it is because I’m intimidating or because I’m the stoic and mysterious type. Before Kim Lip, Jungeun was just a detached and isolated girl in the corner of every room. I didn’t want to be a sad story anymore.” I refuse to tear up, but the lump in my throat struggles to go down. “M-Maybe I did it for both.”

“You’re a strong person, Kim Lip.”

The comment catches me off guard. “How? Isn’t this ridiculous?”

“I think most people wish that they could reinvent themselves. It could be anything, from their past to the types of clothes that they wear. I believe everyone has something in their life that they desperately wish they could change, but they either can’t, or they don’t. You saw something in yourself that you wanted to change, regardless of the reason, and you were able to do that on your own without anyone’s help. You took charge and had the willpower to chase a goal that you had set.”

While she talks, I turn off my lamp and rotate onto my back. I close my eyes and listen as she speaks. Her voice is patient despite the fast pace of her speech, but not so much that any of the details are missed. She slows down and leans on every encouraging word or phrase in that soft voice of hers, and a deep breath briefly escapes me. Is this what it’s like to have a close friend? Or is this just her, just Haseul? I wouldn’t know. 

But there is a sense of intimacy that envelops me while I listen here in my oversized sweater, in the dark, appreciative of the amount of investment she has put into validating the insecurities that have plagued my life. This girl owes me nothing but her half of a class assignment, but she remains on the line with me, even if I was weird enough to ask her to be on a call with me on the same night that I gave her my phone number. Is this normal? Do I want it to be? 

I find myself missing the scent of fresh laundry.

“I admire you,” She continues. “When I first saw you, I knew that you were someone special.”

I blush, but something about it makes me feel sad, as though I’m giving her false hope about me being cool or something. “I’m not special.”

“You’re special, Kim Lip.” Her voice is quiet, and my chest is loud. “Even if it feels like a mask at times, you are still you. It may be a change of clothes, but not a change of person. And you’re anything but a sad story.”

“Are you normally this kind to strangers, Haseul?” I like how it sounds out of my mouth.

“No.” There is a soft chuckle on the other end. “Only to people I care about.”

Well, shit. “I don’t think there’s much else, by the way. I’m sorry that I kept you up. I’m honestly surprised you would want to know at all.”

“It was worth it to get to know you better. I really appreciate that you would even tell me. It seemed like something very vulnerable for you and I’m grateful that you’d want to tell me.”

“We’ve got to get stuff out at some point, right? That’s how this sort of thing works?”

There is a quiet giggle. “I think so.”

“Figures. The world is always trying to make me uncomfortable, you know.” Trying to be funny isn’t a skill of mine either. I should stop.

“As uncomfortable as the world may or may not be, there are things to take pleasure in, right? And that includes simple pleasures, like going out to do things with others. You mentioned wishing that you knew how it felt to get ice cream with a group of people, but maybe you could start off small with me and we can get dinner sometime?”

I feel like I’m malfunctioning. “Dinner?”

“Yes, Kim Lip.” There is a small snort. I don’t blame her for wanting to laugh. 

“From exchanging numbers, to a phone call, and then to a hangout request all in one night,” I comment, making a vain attempt at humor. It doesn’t help that the breathy chuckle out of my mouth sounds embarrassed and awkward. “I feel like even I know that this is a fast pace for recently ex-strangers.” There’s a pause that follows, long enough that concern starts to tickle at the back of my head, but her voice finds its way back into my ears eventually.

“Life is short, isn’t it?” Her voice is like a whisper, and I feel goosebumps crawling along my arms. I can’t quite place the tone, but suddenly it feels like there is no one else in the world other than the two of us. Two voices in the dark. 

I find myself speaking softly now. “I suppose so.”

“Then why waste time?”


	5. A Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different from the others, but it serves its own purpose and I wanted to try something a little different. Because of the length, however, I will post the next chapter tomorrow instead of waiting two days as per usual. The last two chapters are the longest out of all seven, so I hope you're looking forward to them! Thank you for your kind comments, I read them all and I greatly appreciate that you're enjoying it so far!

The days go by like a blur, and the following week arrives faster than I realize. Haseul and I decided that today, the day of our discussion, is when we will get together for dinner. Normally, she wouldn’t be able to, but luckily enough she was able to get out of some classes later in the day. I am not entirely sure if my anxiety is high because of that or the public speaking bit, but maybe it’s a mixture of both. If I don’t think about it during the discussion, then I might not be too shaky. There’s no reason to be shaky, of course. I just haven’t gone out with a friend in a sincere way before. Not a big deal.

A sigh of relief escapes me as Haseul comes in through the door of the classroom, late as always. I watch silently as she quickly walks to the seat in front of me, putting her bag around the back of it before turning her head toward me and shooting me a small smile. This is how it has been since our phone call. She continues to sit in the row in front of me, but I don’t have to ask to know that she is still doing it for me rather than for herself. There is always a warm grin and sometimes a small wave toward me before taking her seat, even when she always seems tired, and I make sure to return the gesture every time. At the end of class, she tends to turn toward me so that we can talk about the class or about something trivial before we have to leave.

Haseul unpacks her bag and rushes to take out her notes while the professor waits for us to get started. I’m thankful that he has this understanding of her being late, because otherwise I would’ve needed to start the discussion on my own, and there is no way that I could’ve been able to do it. I get out of my seat and make my way toward the front of the room, knowing that Haseul is following behind me. The professor sits at the front, and I make sure to take a deep breath before we begin.

The story follows an old woman who cannot speak, her struggles told through an omniscient narrator. She lacks the ability to talk, but the narrator also refuses to give her thoughts a voice, to emphasize the importance of both body language and the importance of communication in the form of action. But she is a closed door, often hiding behind the mask of a smile to disguises her sorrows. Altruism leads her actions to those around her, even when the kindness isn’t returned. It is a tale that begins with the inspiration of a strong woman but, ultimately, ends with her turning to stone rather than passing contently. Her constant resolve, regardless of the situation, hardened her very being until she was but a statue, both literally and figuratively. It is a sad story, but it is intended to teach readers to communicate and to keep themselves from turning to stone.

Haseul’s voice rings through the lecture hall now, shaky yet somehow determined. Although the tale had its own relevance in my eyes, I am surprised that Haseul is as passionate as she is in her delivery. She feels strongly for the woman, arguing that the reader may never truly know if the old woman might have been happier dying as a statue than of old age. Perhaps, as a statue, her smile could speak more to others in a way that she couldn’t in her own life. There is a soft yet resilient imagery that accompanies the statue of a smiling old woman by the seashore, her shape embraced by the sunset. It isn’t a perspective that I considered. I took it at face value upon reading it and, to some degree, I am sure that the writer did have a concrete theme in mind, but I find the way that Haseul digs deeper into its potential meanings very endearing. 

We are lucky enough to have classmates who are very vocal and very willing to participate in the discussion of the story. Many like the idea that Haseul’s perspective serves as a double meaning, but that it still serves as an example of consequence for those who hide their silence behind a selfless grin. She and I both agree, but she is much more talkative with the others about it. I chime in every so often, mostly to make sure that I get credit for participating in this, but I find myself watching Haseul with admiration throughout most of the discussion. She is vibrant, gesturing with her hands as she speaks fervently with our classmates, and she is unafraid to laugh and smile with them. 

I wonder what her life has been like. I see her so little and, when we text, we don’t really talk about personal things too much. It’s okay for me to be less personal, because I think I got out as much vulnerability as I can manage, but I want to know more about her. I don’t want to talk about myself, knowing that there could be so much to her that I don’t even know. I want to listen to her talk about her own story in the same, bright way that she speaks of this one. I want to continue to see her smile at me every day before she takes her seat. I want her to sit next to me from now on.

I sigh as she bows briefly toward the class, ignoring the courteous applause of the professor. She turns to me, giving me a thumb up with a blushing grin. It is a simple gesture, but it touches me deeply after seeing the way that she presented herself. Am I worthy of that energy? Encouraging, warm, pretty, kind, and yet somehow vaguely mysterious. I shoot her a bashful smile and one thumb up in return.

I just want her.


	6. In a Way

It’s surprising when I see her outside of the restaurant later tonight. 

“You’re on time for once,” I comment dryly, and she rolls her eyes as she chuckles. Her outfit is simple but still different. A collared, long-sleeve, white button-up adorns her torso, tucked gently into high-waisted, cuffed, dark blue jeans that end just before her white sneakers.

“My schedule is all over the place but, when I plan things like this, I want to make sure I’m here.” Haseul raises an eyebrow at me, smirking suddenly. “Ponytail, huh?”

“Yeah, I figured casual would be good.” That’s a lie. I wore my hair up because I definitely remember her saying that she likes ponytails on others. But I won’t admit it. Plus, it genuinely does kind of go well with my outfit. Red and black flannel over ripped, white jeans and some black sneakers. Clean and casual. 

She mentions that she already got us a place to sit, and I follow closely behind while she leads us to a booth. There is a pleasant scent of lavender that lingers around her, and something inside me starts to bubble at the idea of her putting on perfume just for this. I need to calm down.

“I hope a booth is okay,” she says softly as we both slide into opposite sides of the table. There are two menus already waiting, and I hand her one before picking up the other for myself. I’ve never been here, even though it’s a short walk away from my house.

“Of course, yeah.” I actually prefer booths, so it works out. The restaurant has a cozy vibe to it, warm earth tones surrounding us. There are paintings of landscapes along the walls, and the menu is decorated elegantly with a welcoming café design. I joke, “Looks fancy.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “It does have that feeling, doesn’t it? The prices are fine, but I think they put a lot of time into creating a nice atmosphere to attract more customers.”

I open the menu and quickly see that she is correct. It wouldn’t have mattered to me, because I would’ve been willing to pay a slightly expensive price for a meal since I rarely do this, but it sure is nice to know that my wallet won’t be bleeding afterward. 

“It has a good atmosphere, I admit.” I share a small smile with her before looking through the options. I try and focus on the words and appetizing images, rather than the plaguing thought that my attempts at small talk will be atrocious. There are only so many comments that I can make about the restaurant when I mostly just want her to talk about herself. At the same time, though, there’s no way she would allow a one-sided conversation between us. I wish she was the type, if only because I don’t want to inevitably make a fool of myself when I open my mouth. 

Is she comfortable with the silence between us while we look through the menu? I don’t mind it, but I would if I knew that she minded it. Classic overthinking. Steak sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it? Something chewy to keep my mouth shut.

She’s mumbling under her breath. “Maybe a soup…”

When the waiter comes by, he speaks quickly but is incredibly polite as he takes our orders and serves us water. The menus disappear from the table, and we are left to wait for our food to arrive. I might as well try to initiate the conversation and prove that I’m looking forward to our da—dinner.

“I’m glad that you asked me to do this, by the way.”

Her eyebrows perk at my comment. “Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’d ever initiate this sort of thing, seeing as I never really had a chance in the past. You knew that about me and invited me. I’m grateful.” 

Her smile is happy and gorgeous. “That’s so sweet of you! Thank you! I just want to be able to get closer to you and I figured, hey, maybe we don’t have to be stuck to classes or texts.”

“Yeah, this really is a dream for me.” I fiddle with my hands against my lap, beneath the table. “It is such a small thing, but I’ve never gone out with a friend like this. Never even really had a genuine friend, either.”

She pouts. “It really does shock me that you’ve never had an opportunity.”

“Well, who knows?” I sigh. “For all I know, maybe I had golden opportunities that I just didn’t pursue because I was too dumb to recognize them. It could’ve been anxiety. I can’t be too sure.”

“I hope that I don’t make you anxious.”

I chuckle. “It’s funny because you do, and you don’t. Is that crazy?”

“Not at all.” She giggles. “You make me feel the same way.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I lift my arms and fold my hands atop the table. She always seems so calm and collected by comparison, at least in my eyes. During her portion of the discussion today, her words practically flew with how passionate she was on the subject. Plus, she had no trouble talking to our classmates. 

“I’m not, really! I have to push myself to be able to speak the way that I want or to get myself to feel comfortable.”

I frown. “I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”

“Of course not, Kim Lip.” She reaches out and places her palms over my folded hands. Heat flares across my face. She wears a tiny, bashful smile while she avoids eye contact with me. I’ve seen enough movies and shows to know that I should unfold my hands and intertwine my fingers with hers, right? This is her giving me strong signals, right? I’m a dumb gay, right? I’m almost glad that she isn’t looking at my face. 

Seconds feel like minutes before I swallow my fear and decide to myself that I’ll hold her hands. However, just as I begin to move, the waiter comes by with Haseul’s soup and her arms are quick to pull away from me so that the waiter can set the bowl down. She thanks him just before he leaves, and there’s a silence that is different from before.

I clear my throat, feeling like a jerk. “Like I said, I’m… new to this.”

“It’s okay!” She gives me a smile, but her cheeks are pink. I don’t want her to feel embarrassed.

I feel as though her shoulders look tenser now, and I want to punch myself. I truly am the antagonist of my own story. No shock. She sips at her spoon quietly as the waiter returns with my plate, and I make sure to thank him as well. The fork that accompanies it suddenly falls victim to my stare, and I feel myself becoming incredibly restless. I can’t believe that I’m willing to mess something like this up. Is this even something? For all I know, she is just the friendliest girl on the planet. Hell, I also just have no experience other than media, so maybe I just can’t decode the signals that may or may not exist. Are these dumb questions? She must be gay, right? I’m going to lose my damned mind, because I’m starting to question if I’m even gay with how paranoid I’m feeling. 

“This is a date, right?” I suddenly blurt out, unable to control my thoughts anymore. 

Her eyes meet mine, and the pink glow of her cheeks have yet to disappear. We stare at one another for a moment, though I can only imagine I look like a deer in headlights. My face feels like it’s burning.

“Oh my god.” She giggles, though it quickly erupts into genuine, hearty laughter. It’s incredibly adorable but I’m also too afraid to laugh along with her, only to look like an idiot if she suddenly clarifies that it isn’t a date. She brings a hand up to her mouth, suddenly unable to look at me as she turns her head to the side. This is going to be a really awkward and sad story if she rejects the notion.

I take a sip of my water. “I should have become a comedian.” Even I can’t help but snicker at myself. She could literally tell me she’s straight, but me saying that I should be a comedian would still be the biggest joke of the night.

Haseul calms herself, still covering her mouth with her hand, before saying, “That was just really cute.” I can tell she’s still grinning behind her palm.

I squint. “But in a girl-liking-girls way, or?”

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes, dropping her hand to reveal a stupidly cute smile. “I mean it in a girl-liking-girls way.”

I’m a fan of this banter. “How about in a you-liking-me way?”

“Oh.” Haseul smirks, bringing a finger to her chin as though to ponder the idea. “That certainly would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

“I think it’d be pretty good, in my opinion.”

“Are you saying that’s what you want?”

I’m blushing again, and I avoid eye contact. “I’m not the best with words. In fact, I’m a mess.”

“Messy is okay.” Her reassuring voice soothes me, and I look back at her. “Actually, messy sounds hot.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“I just wanted to tease you, sorry!” She laughs, waving her hand guiltily. 

“Considering the persona I’ve created, you’d think I’d be the one who teases.”

That makes her laugh. “You want to try being a tease?”

“Oh, no.” I furrow my brow. “That would just be a mess. It’s cuter when you do it.”

Haseul blushes, her smirk stretching into a smile. “There you go.”

“I am enjoying this, but we should probably eat.” Our food will get cold if we continue but, honestly, I just don’t know how much I can handle at once. My heart is already rampaging against my chest. She nods, and we make sure to focus a little more on the food as we talk. 

“There is something that I’ve been wanting to know for some time,” I say, making sure that I’m done chewing.

“And what would that be?” 

“You’re always late to class.” I hope she doesn’t take this as a critique. I really am just curious. “Why is that? I know you have an arrangement with the professor so that it doesn’t’ negatively affect your grades.”

Haseul hums for a moment before replying, “I have to prepare stuff early in the morning so that my sister can take care of the house while I’m in classes. I take her to and from school, so that’s why I’m usually late even though it’s an afternoon course.” 

“Oh, but don’t you take mostly night classes after ours?”

“Yeah.”

I pout. “You should rest more.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “No, no! I’m fine, it’s just the typical older sister stuff.”

“Well, I’m sure your parents are grateful for how hard you work.” I smile. I like that she’s caring.

“I suppose.” Her smile is a bit weak, but it’s probably out of modesty. I don’t think Haseul is the type to take too much pride in things like that. Maybe for her, it’s what she thinks anyone should be willing to do. She returns to her soup, and I take a few more bites of my steak and rice.

Time to change the subject. “What are you studying to become?”

“A teacher!” Haseul is a little more animated now, and I’m glad that it was a seemingly good question. “Mostly for younger kids, though. I don’t think I can handle teenagers.”

I snicker. “I couldn’t handle teenagers even as a teenager.”

“Exactly.” She folds her arms along the table, leaning in a bit. “And what about you?”

“Well, my dream is to do freelance photography, but I’m learning that on my own while I pursue a degree in journalism. If anything, I might be able to become a photojournalist, but I don’t want to focus too hard on the photography part in school since I would prefer to do photoshoots over journalism work.” 

Haseul’s eyebrows rise. “Neither of those are what I was expecting.”

“Did you have any expectations?”

She giggles. “Not really. You’re a first-year, so I almost expected you to be unsure of what you wanted.”

“That’s fair. I was like that after I graduated from high school. But I think during the time the I took off of school, I found an appreciation in photography as I went through my own changes.”

“What kind of pictures do you enjoy taking the most?”

I suddenly feel shy. “Mostly landscapes or things from nature, like animals. I’m really interested in taking photos of others but that isn’t easy when I barely talk to people.”

“I’ll be your model.” She winks at me before paying attention to her bowl again. Whether she’s serious or not, I can’t help but imagine the idea. Haseul has gorgeous features, and I would love to see her captured in a photo, beneath the glittering night sky. Even when she isn’t smiling, her expressions are naturally beautiful.

“I’m not against that idea.” I take a few more bites, trying not to seem overly eager about the proposition.

“I don’t know how to do poses or anything like that, unfortunately.” She laughs. “But, I would love to see any pictures you’ve taken.”

I remember that my parents aren’t home, and that they won’t be for at least another two hours. My camera is there, and I’d love any excuse to keep the night going beyond just food. I’m not entirely sure if I’m doing well or not, but I know that I like whatever this is. 

No harm in offering. “Would you like to stop by my house before you go home? It’s a short walk from here, and my camera is there.”

I notice her bite her lip before saying, “Maybe for a bit.”

“If you have somewhere to be, it’s –” 

She interrupts me, making sure to smile. “No, I’m sorry. I want to, I just had to think about it for a second. I’ll send my sister a text to let her know.”

“Is your sister alone?”

“No.” Haseul shakes her head as she turns it toward her phone. Unlocking it, she quickly types out a message before placing the phone back on the table. “I just get anxious.”

“Anxious?”

“I just don’t want anyone to be upset.”

“If your family is going to get upset, you don’t have to…”

“Hey.” She reaches out suddenly toward my hand on the table and, before I can register what’s happening, I find that her fingers are laced between mine. I inhale deeply through my nose, unsure if the thundering of my chest is audible enough for this cute girl to hear. Her hands are as warm as her, and I don’t want to let go. “It’s okay to do something for me sometimes, right?”

I mumble, “Only if you want to.”

She rubs her thumb against the back of my hand, giving me one of the most genuine smiles that I have ever seen.

“I do.”


	7. No More Hiding

We spoke and ate for a little while longer before finishing and leaving our money with the bill. The topics were light and fun, like asking about one another’s favorite genres of music and what some of our favorite embarrassing stories were while growing up. I am reminded that she is two years older than me and, somehow, that makes me feel a little more bashful. Maybe I like it. I always imagined that I would be the one in the older or more mature position, but the idea of her caring for me makes my chest flutter, even if she is a little shorter. Media sets some expectations, and that’s all that I’ve had to base this sort of thing off of. But I’m glad it’s like this.   
  
It’s a perfect night for walking, especially with a pretty girl holding my hand. Sometimes, while she talks, I get distracted and need her to repeat something because I’m so focused on the way that she rubs the back of my hand with her thumb. It’s only the first of what I hope will be many nights like this, but I can already tell that this is a habit of hers that I’m falling for. Maybe she likes the touch of my skin, I don’t know. But I know that it comforts me greatly, even at the cost of distracting me from the conversation.   
  
An interesting thing about her is that she can sing incredibly well, and I make sure to cling onto every note as she serenades softly to me. She didn’t have to prove it or anything, but she was very eager to share that part of her with me. Apparently, she can play both guitar and piano, too. She says that it was a passion of hers up until she took her year off from school, but that she wanted to focus on helping kids afterward. I make sure to remind her how kind and admirable she is, but she dismisses it. I want her to believe in herself more, but I appreciate that she’s humble.    
  
My grip tightens just a little bit more whenever she talks. She does the same.   
  
We arrive at my place fairly quickly, and I miss her hand as soon as I go to unlock the door. She steps in, and we take off our shoes before going upstairs and into my bedroom. Haseul worries that she seems rude for not greeting my parents, but I assure her that they aren’t home.   
  
“They’re out?” Haseul asks.   
  
“Yeah, I told them that I was going out for dinner and they joked about celebrating that by going out to dinner themselves.” I roll my eyes, closing the door behind me and making sure to turn on my bedside lamp. It casts a dim glow within the room, but I don’t have a brighter light. I’ve always preferred it this way. I walk over to my closet and search for my camera on one of the high shelves.   
  
I hear her chuckle behind me. “I take it that they were concerned about your social life.”   
  
“Yeah, but that’s alright.” I laugh. “I guess I was, too.”   
  
She’s looking around the room when I turn around, camera in hand. I’ve never had someone in this space aside from my parents, so it’s nice to see someone who looks like they’re interested in my stuff. I walk up to her from behind and tap her shoulder, and I can’t help but give her a tiny smile when she turns toward me. She seems excited as she gently takes the camera from my hands and, for once, I begin to worry if my photos seem okay or not.   
  
“Hey,” she whispers, stirring me from my thoughts. “Want a tip?”   
  
I blink. A critique already, damn. “Sure, yeah.”   
  
She turns so that her back is facing me. “You should wrap your arms around me.”   
  
“O-Oh.” I take a deep breath. It was so unexpected, and now my palms feel like they’re going to start sweating. I forgot that people in scenarios like this can do more than just hold hands and breathe the same air.   
  
I hear a soft giggle from her when she places the camera softly on the bed. She reaches for my hand and pulls me closer, just as she turns her back toward me again. Reaching behind, she grabs at my wrists and brings them around her waist. I try to remember to breathe in relaxed cycles so that my chest doesn’t accidentally heave against her back. Overall, this is uncharted territory.    
  
“You can put your chin on my shoulder, Kim Lip.”    
  
I bite my lip in silence as I rest my head on her shoulder, and I am enveloped yet again by that lavender scent. It relaxes my anxiety a little, although my heartbeat continues to skyrocket. Her face is so close to mine, but she is looking down at our hands. Her palms are softly against the back of mine, as though she doesn’t want to part from them, either.    
  
Her voice is softer now. “You smell good.”   
  
Hopefully she can’t feel me gulp. “You, too, Haseul.” I tighten my hold around her waist just a bit, and I feel her exhale just before reaching for the camera again. I’m just glad I don’t smell like food and sweat at this point. Maybe I’ll consider buying another bottle of this cherry blossom perfume.    
  
“Let’s look, okay?”   
  
I hope she doesn’t see my stupidly shy smile from her peripheral. “Yeah. I just hope they’re alright.”   
  
I can see one corner of her mouth pull up into what I can only assume is a smile as she turns the camera on. We both watch the screen as she flicks between stills. She makes a really cute noise whenever she passes by a picture of an animal, which are some of the rare subjects that I can manage to get in my photos. Haseul seems to like the stray cats the most. There are a lot in this neighborhood. Amongst the stills, there are vibrant petals amongst sunny skies, food markets amidst the cityscapes, and creatures of all sizes relaxing or hiding in plain sight. These are small pleasures in life, and I’m glad that Haseul is letting me share that with her.   
  
“They’re great, Kim Lip.” I can tell from her tone that she is being sincere. Photography has been one of the few things that I have found no insecurity in, and it probably helps that I’ve avoided pursuing it academically. It’s an activity that is just for me. It’s a world of my own to create. I’d be glad to have her in it, assuming that she is serious about wanting to be my model.   
  
Suddenly, I remember that showing her my pictures was the main point of her coming over.   
  
“Is this the part where you leave?” I ask, hoping that my tone makes it obvious that I sincerely don’t want that to happen. Although, admittedly, I’m not sure what we should do now that she is placing the camera back down on the bed.    
  
I can tell she’s stifling a laugh. “Do you want it to be?”   
  
“No.” I pout, though I feel my eyes widen as she turns her face a bit toward mine. Hopefully she can’t see my reddening cheeks in the dim glow of the room. Her lips are so close, but I feel myself freeze at the thought of pressing mine to hers. Does she want me to do it? Is she going to do it? I don’t know how to do any of this, let alone it!   
  
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “We can talk more if you want.” She removes herself from my hold, turning to face toward me. I feel like I messed up, until she makes sure to grasp my hands yet again. The affirmation is sweet.   
  
“I still feel like there’s more that I want to know about you.” I mean it.   
  
She gently tugs me until I follow her over to my window seat, and she gestures for me to sit down. The moonlight from the window hugs my back as I take a seat. Before I realize what she’s doing, Haseul sits herself upon my lap, sideways so that her legs hang over mine, and she wraps her arms around my neck. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her waist to keep her from falling. But, again, I feel paralyzed.   
  
Her expression, initially coy, fades to concern. “Too much?”   
  
“N-No, I’m just… gay.”   
  
“Me, too.” Blushing, she brings one of my hands up to her chest and presses it over her heart. I desperately force myself to ignore the fact that I’m touching her chest, of all things. She lets our hands rest there, her hand over the back of my own, and I feel her heartbeat rapidly drumming against my palm.    
  
Unbelievable. “How are you being so collected and cool right now, then? You’re coming off so confident.”   
  
“Well, I was in a relationship once before when I was in high school. I’m shy, myself, but I know that you haven’t been with anyone in the past. I feel like I should be the one to help you transition through these sorts of things.” She lets go of my hand and gives me a determined thumb up. “I am pushing myself, but I also like it. Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” She wraps that hand back around my neck along with her other arm. My free hand leaves her chest and returns to her waist.    
  
I pull her a bit closer. “A relationship, huh?”   
  
She smirks. “Just high school. Typical kissy stuff occasionally. I’m not super experienced, if that’s what I implied. I’m sorry.” There is a soft giggle.   
  
“You’re worlds ahead of me. Plus, is that what this is? A relationship?” I feel a chill as her fingers idly caress the skin of my neck.   
  
Haseul snickers. “Do I have to remind you, again, that this is in a girl-who-likes-girls way?”   
  
I puff my cheeks, wanting an answer. “But is this in a girlfriends-now way or a gal-pals way?”   
  
“You’re cute.”   
  
“I will root for the former?”   
  
“Safe bet.” She winks at me. I want to collapse. “So, what did you want to know about?”   
  
“Why did you take a year off from school?”   
  
The question was out of pure curiosity, but I instantly regret it. I can feel her arms go relatively limp against my shoulders, and her smile flattens into a line as she bites at her bottom lip. It feels as though a piece of the atmosphere chipped away in front of me, but I can’t quite see it.   
  
“It’s not exactly befitting the mood.” Her voice is soft, not angry. She sounds as though she’s holding back.   
  
I frown. “Did I upset you? You don’t have to tell me.”   
  
“No, it’s not that.” She sighs, but she avoids meeting my eyes. “You’ll have to find out sooner or later, right? It’s just something I haven’t really told anyone about since it happened. Maybe it’s that sort of thing where it doesn’t feel real as long as I don’t open up about it.”   
  
I swallow down a lump that forms in my throat. “Are you ill?”   
  
Her eyes meet mine for a moment, and a hint of amusement breaks through her serious expression when her eyes crinkle up for a moment, and her voice is lighter. “Nothing like that, no.” She rubs my shoulders to reassure me. “I’m okay.”   
  
That’s a huge relief. I’m too used to dramatic films. “You can tell me if you want.”   
  
She looks away but, again, not angrily. “My father passed away in a car accident. He was a musician, so a lot of my inspiration and encouragement in singing came from him, especially because he always took me to opera shows when I was a little girl. But I don’t want to perform on a stage if he’s not there watching. So, I took a year off to get my footing and change my entire career plan. Plus, I suddenly had a greater role and responsibility at home.”   
  
I don’t speak, partly because I am speechless. But she continues.   
  
“My mother isn’t well.” I try to hold her tighter when I begin to hear her voice shake. “She was in the accident, too, and she has been traumatized ever since. I think she just misses him dearly, but she is less of a mother these days and more like a zombie.” She suddenly tries to laugh to make the mood lighter, but it comes out like a pained cough. “Guess that’s what a big sister is for now.”    
  
“I don’t know what to say, Haseul… I had no idea.”   
  
I feel her fingers gently rubbing my neck again. “It’s okay. I didn’t tell you.”   
  
I frown. “But you… you’re always smiling. This is clearly upsetting you, especially with all of that stress being added onto a loss. You can be hurt, too. Sometimes crying is the best thing for a person when everything feels like it’s too much.”   
  
“I can’t do that to Yeojin.” There is a tear that falls along her cheek, and I make sure to reach a hand up to catch it with my thumb. She leans her cheek against my palm suddenly, our gazes meeting yet again. “I need to focus for her. As it is, sh-she has to deal with taking care of both herself and our mother while I’m at class. And I can’t skip class, because I need to make this teacher thing happen so that I can start making an income as soon as possible. I n-need to support the house. I can’t chase a dream and rely on praying that it’ll happen, when people need me now. I don’t even go out because I’m so worried about all of this getting to Yeojin when she’s so young, too young. She’s been through enough, I can’t add mental stress on top of it.”   
  
She sniffles a bit, trying to not cry more than she already has, but I refuse to break the stare between us. Her eyes are a bit puffy and pink in the light, and I continue to rub the few slow tears with my thumb as they fall toward my hand. Her fingers gently stroke the hair of my ponytail. Maybe it calms her, that rhythmic movement.    
  
Haseul clears her throat. “I bet I look cute.” Her forced smile hurts me.   
  
I shake my head. “I don’t understand how you have the audacity to call me a strong person when you’re the one talking to me.”   
  
“What do you mean? You are.”   
  
“You’re this wonderful person who pretends like there’s nothing wrong daily. You have gone through so much in a year and have even gone as far as to give up on your dreams, just to prove how reliable you are for your family. I’m just this stupid girl talking about how I struggled with wanting to form a new identity, while you’ve been suffering with all this stress and pain the entire time! You’re so—”    
  
She cuts me off, sniffling before shooting me a stern look. “Stop it. What you went through may have been very different from what I have gone through, but that does not make it any less important. I wish I had the willpower that you had to transform into a whole new person. You’re strong, Kim Lip.”   
  
“Call me Jungeun.”   
  
Haseul blinks once, then twice. “What?”   
  
“I’m still the same person, like you said. I may be showing a new side of me this year, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t always a part of me to begin with. I just never had it in me to bring it to light until after high school.” I rub her cheek with my thumb. “I’m still me, right? Kim Lip is pretend, but Jungeun is real. I want to be the real me, alongside this real you. I want everything about this to be real because, god, I’ve never had anything real.”   
  
Her whisper causes me to tremble. “… Jungeun…”   
  
“I don’t want you to turn to stone.”   
  
Her brow furrows, confused again. “What?”   
  
“That stupid story, of the old woman who can’t speak. I know it’s fictional, but there’s a lesson in it for a reason, isn’t there? She puts her best foot forward, even if she’s struggling just to walk. There’s always a smile on her face, even when others mistreat her. She can’t talk about it, so you’re left thinking that she is okay because she keeps moving forward, when it can’t be the truth. And she hardens until there’s nothing left but a small, permanent trace of her in this massive world. You can’t do that! You can speak, and you’re not alone. Please, even if it’s just me. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so strong and, if even for a second you have the nerve to call me strong, then you need to let me be a shoulder for you. I want you to rely on my strength, in the same way that I’ve been relying on yours ever since we had that phone call. Neither of us have to struggle alone like we’ve tricked ourselves into thinking.”   
  
Her eyes are watery again, and she is very still. I worry that she is keeping herself from crying more, and I don’t know if what I said was right or not. Maybe I said all the wrong things. Her arms loosen themselves from my neck, one of her palms rising toward and cupping the side of my face.   
  
“I don’t know how to respond,” she says in a soft whisper. Her eyes lower until they reach my lips, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of her half-lidded gaze. “I don’t think I want to talk anymore, Jungeun.”   
  
As her face nears, I can’t help but feel dazed. Before I can even comprehend the weight of what’s happening, Haseul closes the gap between us, and my eyes flutter shut.    
  
Our lips meet softly and I shakily exhale, through my nose, a breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding in. I’ve never done anything like this before, but my forehead relaxes even as our noses bump against one another. Her lips glide smoothly over mine, and I feel her smile against my mouth as I rub at the fabric around her hip, our teeth clacking for but a moment when I can’t help but return the grin. She suddenly tilts her head to the side, and I mimic her movement in the opposite direction. This angle works much better.   
  
Her breath is warm and sweet between kisses, her lips often meeting mine exactly or capturing mine between her own. I hear them smack, and it makes my cheek flush. I pull her closer toward me, even as my body heat soars, and I feel myself sighing as her chest presses against mine. I swear that I can feel both of our hearts pounding. Her hand drops from my face, and she returns to wrapping her arms around my neck while she leans into me. I feel both anxious and calm all at once. I’m sure that my ears are red, and I can’t avoid the tingling warmth that travels along the surface of my skin.   
  
I feel her gently lick at my bottom lip just before pulling away, like an invitation that I am very willing to accept. I open my eyes, wide and utterly in awe. She’s blushing, just like me, and she is giving me the cutest, most bashful smile I’ve ever seen. I still can’t bring myself to speak, although I’m sure it makes me look like I’m insane. Is it possible to give a person heart eyes? How do I do that?   
  
I collect myself and clear my throat. “S-So, is that what you had in mind when you said that you wanted to be closer to me?”    
  
Haseul chuckles softly at my remark, but there is worry in her eyes. “Was that kiss too soon or too much?” When she asks, she momentarily looks away even as she’s rubbing my shoulders. The slight breathlessness in her voice almost makes me dizzy. Did she really ask me if I was okay with that?   
  
I can’t help but laugh before I pull this incredible girl back in for another round.   
  
Life is too short, after all. Why waste time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for enjoying the first fanfic I've written since 2016! Personally, I feel like I've lost my touch, but that's the consequence of using a perspective I normally hate to use (I usually consider first-person my worst) and also because I always feel that my writing is very bad. I don't even promote on twitter or anything that I've published a story. Anxiety, y'know? But when you leave kind comments for me about what you liked, those are incredibly encouraging and brighten my day. So again, thank you. Whether I actually take a shot at a "social media AU" on twitter or I publish something new here, I hope to write something else as soon as I think of a new idea. Anyway, have a wonderful day and thank you for your time. I don't deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not fret! This fic is fully completed, but I will be uploading updates periodically every two or three days. I used to post super huge one-shots in some older fandoms, but I want to get used to pacing stuff out. Hopefully you enjoyed yourself!
> 
> You can reach me at the following places!  
> Twitter: @eclipseddestiny  
> CuriousCat: @haseuwul


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